


Delicate Things

by MostlyAnon



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/M, Jealousy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-13
Updated: 2012-06-13
Packaged: 2017-11-07 16:38:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/433235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MostlyAnon/pseuds/MostlyAnon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Overall, Shepard knew herself to be an unfeminine woman.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Delicate Things

Shepard sat in the mess and ate a yogurt, watching the pretty French doctor patch a graze wound on Garrus’ shoulder.   
  
 _Watch yourself, Shepard._  
  
Of all the things Shepard knew herself to be skilled at, feminine wiles were never considered. She knew this was unusual. She had no real opinions about fashion, beyond the newest developments in defensive equipment and a firm dislike of certain colors of armor lights. She couldn’t tell the difference between and updo and... whatever other hairstyles there were. Braids? No, she knew what a braid was. Sometimes she wore one. An updo and whatever the opposite was. A downdo.  
  
And shoes! She couldn’t give a damn. She couldn’t imagine why she should _want_ to wear high heels. Her dress blues came with perfectly respectable boots-- boots she could run in. Her chapstick had some tint to it, but otherwise she was more familiar with turian face paint than eyeshadow or lipstick.  
  
Overall, Shepard knew herself to be an unfeminine woman. She could eject a clip and reload in the time it took to exhale, but her nails were never filed, never painted delicate pink, like the pretty French doctor’s. When she spoke, her voice held authority, not seduction. Her skin was scarred and battle worn. Her body was hard and lean.  
  
Shepard smiled when something the doctor said caused Garrus to laugh, enjoying the sound of his mirth. She licked her spoon clean and tossed the empty cup at the trash receptacle.  
  
 _Remember, if this thing goes wrong and we both die in some big Reaper explosion - I took the killshot._  
  
No, she could not compare to the pretty French doctor. They were nothing alike, not really.  
  
Which was exactly why she didn’t worry about the pretty French doctor.


End file.
